Varieties.
Man to the plough,Wife to the sow,Son to the flail,Daughter to the pail,And your rents will be netted;But, man tally ho,Daughter piano,Son Greek and Latin,Wife silk and satin,And you’ll soon be gazetted.
Man to the plough,Wife to the sow,Son to the flail,Daughter to the pail,And your rents will be netted;But, man tally ho,Daughter piano,Son Greek and Latin,Wife silk and satin,And you’ll soon be gazetted.
Man to the plough,Wife to the sow,Son to the flail,Daughter to the pail,And your rents will be netted;
Man to the plough,
Wife to the sow,
Son to the flail,
Daughter to the pail,
And your rents will be netted;
But, man tally ho,Daughter piano,Son Greek and Latin,Wife silk and satin,And you’ll soon be gazetted.
But, man tally ho,
Daughter piano,
Son Greek and Latin,
Wife silk and satin,
And you’ll soon be gazetted.
A Scene in a Scotch Court of Justice in 1757.—The Dean of Faculty at that time was Mr Lockhart, afterwards Lord Covington, a man of learning, but of a demeanour harsh and overbearing. It had ever been considered the duty of the chief of the body of advocates, freely elected to preside over them, to be particularly kind and protecting to beginners; but Lockhart treated all who came in contact with him in a manner equally offensive, although he had been engaged in a personal altercation with a gentleman out of court, who threatened to inflict personal chastisement upon him; and there were some circumstances in his domestic life supposed to render his reputation vulnerable. At last, four junior advocates, of whom Wedderburn, afterwards Lord Chancellor Loughborough, was one, entered into a mutual engagement that he among them who first had the opportunity should resent the arrogance of the Dean, and publicly insult him. It was by mere accident that the opportunity occurred to Wedderburn, who certainly made a good use of it. In the very end of July, or beginning of August, 1757, (the exact day I have not been able to ascertain), Wedderburn was opposed in the Inner House as counsel to Lockhart, and was called by him “a presumptuous boy,” experiencing from him even more than his wonted rudeness and superciliciousness. When the presumptuous boy came to reply, he delivered such a personal invective as never was before or since heard at the Scottish bar. A lively impression still remains of its character; but newspaper reporting was then unknown in Edinburgh, and oral tradition has preserved only one sentence of that which probably was the meditated part of the harangue:—“The learned Dean has confined himself on this occasion to vituperation; I do not say that he is capable of reasoning, but if tears would have answered his purpose, I am sure tears would not have been wanting.” Lockhart here started up and threatened him with vengeance. Wedderburn—“I care little, my Lords, for what may be said or done by a man who has been disgraced in his person and dishonoured in his bed.” Lord President Craigie, being afterwards asked why he had not sooner interfered, answered, “because Wedderburn made all the flesh creep on my bones.” But at last his Lordship declared in a firm tone, that “this was language unbecoming an advocate, and unbecoming a gentleman.” Wedderburn, now in a state of such excitement as to have lost all sense of decorum and propriety, exclaimed that “his Lordship had said as a judge what he could not justify as a gentleman.” The President appealed to his brethren as to what was fit to be done, who unanimously resolved that Mr Wedderburn should retract his words and make an humble apology, on pain of deprivation. All of a sudden Wedderburn seemed to have subdued his passion, and put on an air of deliberate coolness; when, instead of the expected retractation and apology; he stripped off his gown, and holding it in his hands before the Judge, he said, “My Lords, I neither retract nor apologise, but I will save you the trouble of deprivation; there is my gown, and I will never wear it more; virtute me involvo.” He then coolly laid his gown upon the bar, made a low bow to the Judges, and before they had recovered from their amazement he left the court, which he never again entered. That very night he set off to London. I know not whether he had any apprehension of the steps which the Judges might have taken to vindicate their dignity, or whether he was ashamed to meet his friends of the Parliament House, but he had formed a resolution, which he faithfully kept, to abandon his native country, and never more to revisit it.—‘Lord Campbell’s Lives of the Chancellors.’
Antiquity of the Influenza.—Of this now universally prevailing malady we have (says the ‘Glasgow Constitutional’) the following account, in a letter from Randolph, the English Ambassador at the Court of Mary, Queen of Scots, to Cecil (afterwards Lord Burghley,) dated Edinburgh, 30th November, 1562. “May it please your Honour. Immediately upon the Queen’s arrival here she fell acquainted with a new disease that is common in this town, called the ‘New Acquaintance,’ which passed also through her whole Court, neither sparing lord, lady, nor damsel, nor so much as French or English. It is a pain in their head that have it, and a soreness in their stomachs, with a great cough; it remaineth with some longer, with others shorter time, as it findeth apt bodies for the nature of the disease. The Queen kept her bed six days; there was no appearance of danger, nor many that die of the disease except some old folks. My Lord of Murray is now presently in it, and I am ashamed to say that I have been free of it, seeing it seeketh acquaintance at all men’s hands.” The letter is printed pp. 105-7 of the “Selections from Unpublished Manuscripts Illustrating the reign of Mary Queen of Scotland,” presented to the Maitland Club, in 1837, by the late Mr Kirkman Finlay, of Castle Toward. The last freak of the distemper, according to the ‘Edinburgh Register,’ was the seizure of the master of the Duddingston Mills, and at the same time all his millers, and the mill stood still. To complete the adage that misfortunes never come single, the millers’ wives were almost all ill, and unable to nurse their husbands.
Air, Oct. 3, 1772.—On the 23d ult. we had one of the most selemn processions of free masons in this place, that I presume ever was made in Scotland. The occasion of it was laying the foundation-stone of the works for improving the harbour. The Earl of Dumfries, Grand Master for Scotland, and upwards of 500 of the brethren, were present. They assembled at the King’s-arms between ten and eleven o’clock forenoon. From thence they went in procession to the church, attended by the Rev. Mess. Dalrymple and M‘Gill, ministers in this place, decently habited in their gowns, with their aprons under them, their hats below their arms as the rest of the company, carrying the Bible open in their hands; violins, and a variety of other music, playing before them. An elegant sermon was there delivered them from Psal. civ. 15. The stone was then presented, when his Lordship applied to it the plumb-rule and the square, and gave it three strokes with the mallet. After that ceremony was performed, it was handed over the quay with ropes, and his Lordship solemnly poured upon it a handful of corn, and a cupful of wine and oil; devoutly lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, and addressing the Great Architect of heaven and earth, that the place might abound in these articles. This gave occasion to three cheerful huzzas. Then the Rev. Mr M‘Gill, having addressed himself to the brethren, which likewise was followed with three cheers as before, he devoutly prayed; and the whole ceremony was concluded with singing the masons’ anthem.—‘Weekly Magazine.’
James VI. when a Boy.—The celebrated Andrew Melville and his nephew, James, were introduced to the King at Stirling Castle, previous to his entering his ninth year. The following is James Melville’s account of him: “He was the switest sicht in Europe that day, for strange and extraordinar gifts of ingyne, judgment, memorie, and language. I heard him discourse walking up and down in the auld Lady Marr’s hand, of knowledge and ignorance to my grait marvell and astonishment.”—